


And They Were Roomates

by CosmicBrownie



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Loose linear narrative that jumps from the past to present, M/M, NSFW, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Random & Short, Slow Romance, Smut, Smut optional of course, Tags to be added, Takes place in the time of whenever it was written and published, Unrequited Love, Varying rating levels, a series of connected one shots, crackheads, no beta we die like tommy, references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29408397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicBrownie/pseuds/CosmicBrownie
Summary: Nick, George and Clay decide to finally move in together down in Florida. This is either going to be a really good thing, or a really, really bad idea.(Oneshot book. Heavy Dreamnotfound shipping. Willing to take any prompts!)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Socks and Spoons (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first it was simply a few strange occurances. Nick's stuff going missing, weird noises and frequent misplacements. But then, one night, during a power outage, he really saw it.
> 
> Sapnap saw a ghost.
> 
> (Teen-rated for language)

The first thing Clay began to recognize as he drifted into an uneasy consciousness was a small, insignificant nudge to his shoulder. Rain tapped gently against the window, thick and hard against the glass, just white noise in the background.

"Dream?" a gentle voice whispered into the dark and silence. Then, a slight nudge became rampant prodding, then a light shake. " _Dre-eam?_ " the voice repeated, sounding out every vowel and drawing it out in an urgent-sounding, raspy, whisper-shout. Then the light shake became a violent one, startling Clay awake.

His heavy, cemented eyes opened slowly, and he flipped around in his bed quickly to see who it was, although he already knew. It was Sapnap.

"What is it, Nick?" Clay groaned, voice melting into a thick yawn. He feigned boredom as he sat up to face his friend who was perched on his bed beside him, although the worrying expression he wore was waking him right up, to say the least. It looked scared. Like there was danger. And that was not a face the usually collected man bore often.

"It's back," he whispered with a shaky exhale. His wide eyes darted nervously between Clay's gaze and the door at the opposite end of the hall, where he had left it slightly ajar. Out in the hall, it was pitch black, darker than in Clay's room, and gave off an eerie aura. "I saw it this time, Dream, I really did! It looked at me. A-and it totally c-cut the power, too, and-"

Just then, lightning struck outside the window in a white flash, making Nick jump at least a inch off the bed, his whole body going rigid. He then trembled like a wet puppy as a booming clap of thunder shook the walls a second after. The rain seemed to be falling even harder now.

"Hey, relax, relax," Clay soothed. "And would you please relax?" He stretched, sitting back farther on the bed and rubbing his adjusting eyes as the darkness became clearer and clearer. "What's going on?"

Nick took a deep breath, then scooted closer to him on the bed, wiping the back of his palm over his ghostly white brow. “Okay, listen, Dream. I saw it. Out in the hall. It's real. I saw it!"

"Hey, hey, would stop for a second?" he groaned. "Nick, you're not making any sense. What did you see?"

"The ghost!" Nick practically shouted, then shrunk within a moment, head whipping around to look at the door behind him warily, as if he had been too loud, an someone-or something-might have heard him. He then jumped up, extending a hand. "C'mon, we have to go! Let's get out of here! Before it's too late!"

It took Clay a whole five seconds to process what his friend had said, then just one to sigh in annoyance and roll his eyes, pulling the covers back over his shoulder as he laid back down.

"Dream, I'm serious!" Nick whined, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him back up, much to his dismay.

"Are you really?" he scoffed "A _ghost?_ C'mon, Sap. This is ridiculous. Let me go back to sleep."

"No!" Nick grabbed him by the face and turned it toward his, making Clay pay attention. " _Clay_ ," he said, voice low and serious. "I _saw_ something out there. I’m sure of it.”

Clay looked deep into his friends eyes, realization striking him. He knew when his friend really meant something. He joked with him all day, and heard him make wild claims and schemes and ideas just as much. He knew when his words were ingenuine. These weren't.

"Okay," he exhaled, sitting back up and deciding to entertain his friends fears. "Tell me what happened, Sap."

Nick let out a short breath of relief that he was listening before erratically explaining, "Alright, so you know how I've been noticing weird things all week? And how I thought I saw a strange figure the other night? And how all the signs _totally_ lead to a ghost?"

Nick was right, at least to some extent. All week, the man had been noticing strange happenings around the apartment. First, he had begun to complain about things like his missing left socks and disappearing silverware, or his two-in-one ending up in the kitchen for no reason before his shower, and then in the laundry room the next morning, as if had moved on it's own. Haphazardly, Clay had suggested it was a ghost, and George had laughed. But Sapnap didn't.

Soon, things escalated, and the paranoid man began to point out every queer occurrence he could. Locking doors. Quickly-draining ice cream containers. Creaking floorboards during late, unholy hours. Temperature changes. The lightbulb in the dining room that always flickered. More misplaced items. Game glitches. The TV turning on by itself. Curious sounds through the walls at night. Unfolded laundry that had once been folded before. His two-in-one going missing entirely.

Clay and George were finding it really funny, of course. At least at first. Nick had begun to get really jumpy, comically so, and his Netflix and YouTube suggestions became filled with paranormal stories and documentaries as he threw himself into a watching spree on the subject entirely. Clay had had himself a good laugh when he put on a scary movie a night or two before and Sapnap had yelled at every jumpscare. But then it became concerning. Every evening at dinner, Nick would report his findings to the pair, and argue with them on every possible, reasonable explanation, especially when he claimed to have seen the spirit during a late-night bathroom trip one night. He was becoming distant, and at night, he'd go to bed early and shut himself in his room, not to be disturbed until morning. 

So maybe it had been Clay's idea in the first place. That it was a ghost at all. Maybe it was his fault the idea had found its way into his head. But he couldn't have guessed he'd start this. It had simply been a little joke!

The night before, in fact, they had ordered Chinese food, and Clay had made the ignorant mistake of sharing the fortune he found in his cookie with Nick. And, of course, he had found a way to make it about the “ghost”.

” _You will be visited by an otherworldly occurrence!_ ” Sapnap reminded him. “Remember? Your fortune called it!”

”Sap, it’s a stupid, fake, randomized fortune I got from takeout fast food! It doesn’t mean anything!” Clay protested, rubbing his temples solemnly. He tried to make his tone gentle, but couldn’t manage to control his volume as he tried to rationalize his friend gently.

”Oh yeah? Well how do you explain all the other things?” he asked in return, crossing his arms.

Clay paused. “Is this about the two-in-one?”

Sapnap seemed to blush at that. “This isn’t about the two-in-one!”

”Okay, okay. So you think there’s a ghost in the apartment. Why does that bring you here to the foot of my bed at this hour, in the dark?”

Nick leaned in close and began to whisper again, “‘Cause it just turned the power off!”

That made Clay sit up. He looked around the dark room, fully realizing it now, as if the darkness had changed. Now it was purposeful. Acknowledged. Seen. And somehow even darker, even as his eyes adjusted. Still, the storm raged outside, rain pelting his window mercilessly. 

“Do you hear that?” he whispered back.

”What?”

”That storm outside.”

”Of course.”

Clay inhaled deeply. “Then take a wild guess as to why the power is out!” he yelled angrily.

Sapnap jumped back, startled. “No need to shout,” he scoffed, offended.

”I’m sorry,” Clay sighed, a chuckle threatening to break free from his throat. “But this is just insane, Sapnap. And unless there is any Ghostbusters-level concrete proof of a ghost taking your left socks and the kitchen spoons, or an immediate danger, then-“

Sapnap grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him hard. ”No, that’s the thing, though, Dream. Listen, it’s walking out in the hall right now! The ghost!”

Clay froze. For some reason, that sent a chill up his spine. His body went rigid, and now he stared toward the door with a new perspective. Still though, he didn’t quite buy it. “What?” he nervously chuckled, twisting over and swinging his feet off the bed to the floor.

”It was down the hall, Dream. Clear as day,” he whispered, returning to his panicked demeanor.

"Bullshit," he muttered, rising quickly to his feet with a newfound sense of determination. "I've gotta see this." He then charged for the door, Sapnap calling after him.

"Woah, woah, woah!" he said. "Where are you going?"

"Uh, to see the ghost...?" answered Dream in reply, as if it was obvious. "Where else?"

"No, no no! Wait! Don't!" Sapnap protested. He then grabbed his friend by his sleeve, tugging him back before he could reach the door handle and leave. 

Clay laughed, yanking his arm back. "What, are you scared?" he teased.

"Dude, think about this rationally. What if you get, like, I don't know, hurt, or _possessed_ , or-"

"You have been watching too many of those dumb ghost hunting YouTube videos, man." Clay turned to go, pushing through the doorway before he could be stopped again and swinging into the dark hall. Instinctively, he tried to flick the lightswitch on the wall there, before remembering as a tremor of thunder sounded in the distance that the power was out. He stared into the blackness, blinking as if it might make it brighter, and barely, it did.

Nick grew quiet as he followed him into the hall, head peeking out nervously before he joined his friend, tethered to his side. His demeanor was small as he hid behind him, looking down the empty, dark passageway too. His eyes were the size of saucers and his breathing laboured as if something was about to jump out at them.

"See?" Clay whispered after a long pause, not quite sure why he was being so quiet. "Nothing's there," he assured Nick and himself. Still, though, he wasn't moving from his position in the open doorway. He didn't move his muscle, feet planted firmly in place.

"There was something there before though. Ghostly white, human-ish, pale, and scary looking." Nick grabbed him by the shoulders, peering out from behind them as if he was much smaller than Clay, and he wasn't. "You can sense it too, can't you?"

"This is ridiculous!" he rasped, shoving Nick off of him. "There's nothing there!"

Nick looked him sternly in the eye. "Then _why are you whispering?"_

"I hate you," he returned, finding the courage to finally move as he stepped forward into the dark. He walked slow, utilizing every joint in his foot as he crept forward, inch by inch. Nick followed behind, breathing so hard still and staying so close that Clay could feel the air hit his neck. As much as he would have hated to admit it, he was beginning to become a little anxious himself as he walked deeper into an apartment that had suddenly become unknown to him. But before he knew it, he was out in the 

"Can't see a thing," Nick muttered quietly, the rain almost muffling his nearby voice from the volume. Clay related. It was pitch black, save for a flash of light that cracked outside the window. The thunder that followed made Nick shake.

Clay swallowed. His feet continued to drag across the floor, guiding he and Nick's stiff bodies through the living room, then the dining room, only to find nothing-and no one- amiss there. They checked the bathroom next, and both jumped upon catching their reflections staring back at them in the mirror.

"This is stupid," he groaned, remembering himself and forcing his tense shoulders to relax. He stepped away from Nick, who was still huddled close and guarded, and took a deep, long breath. "Let's just go wake George up, 'cause he's probably been sleeping like a baby through this, find some candles, get the ice cream out of the freezer and into that cooler, and-"

Just then, an ear-splitting crash and a subsequent series clatters erupted from the kitchen, making them both shout aloud, bodies convulsing as they jumped and trembled. Nick fled to his side once again, grabbing his arm tighter than an overbearing bouncer. 

"What was that?" he gasped, clearly frightened now more than ever.

"Sounds like something-I don't know- _fell_. Or shattered."

Nick sucked in a short breath of air. "It's the-"

"If you say ghost, I'm going to fucking _kill_ -"

Just then, lightning flashed again, and they heard a high-pitched cry that made them both seize up, eyes blowing wide. The sound was high-strung, whiny, even, and was followed by a loud, unhinged, accented curse. They recognized it instantly.

"George!" they both said, darting out of the bathroom forcefully.

But before they could get anywhere, though, Nick stopped a couple feet out of the door, causing Clay to collide into him from behind and stumble back. "Fuck, Sap!" he cursed, rubbing his nose where he had hit it in the rush. "What now?"

"It's-it's-C-Clay, it's-!" Nick sputtered, ghostly white once again. His breathing became short, his large body unmoving, besides a hand that lifted to point into the dark in the direction of the kitchen. Clay followed it's direction, peering into the shadowy room, only to see something that made him gasp.

A small, pale, white figure was standing there in the dark, small and stagnant. As quickly as Clay had realized it's presence, it twisted around to look at him with dark eyes, and Clay unintentionally screamed, along with Nick, guttural, loud and unstopping. To their surprise, the ghost shouted, too.

Then, the lights flickered on, blinding them in bright, yellow light, and they all screamed even louder.

After a long few seconds of staring and shouting, Clay stopped. "Wait-" he yelled. "Wait a minute! Wh-George?!"

George, who was the figure standing in the kitchen, dressed in a large, white hoodie, stopped too, followed by Nick. Silence commenced.

Clay somehow managed to repress the automatic laugh that tried to escape his gaping, open mouth, and stepped past his still frozen friend, paralyzed in a defensive position in front of him. "George, what the fuck?!" he shouted. "What are you doing?"

George released his own startled pose and expression of shock, letting out a held breath of air from his tightened lungs. "Dream? Sap? Oh my god." His voice tumbled into a nervous chuckle. "You scared me! Jesus Christ!"

" _We_ scared _you?_ " Nick huffed, finally processing the situation. His arms relaxed, then bunched up at his chest again, upset. "You just about made me shit myself, Gogy! What the fuck are you doing out here this late?"

"What are you two doing out here this late, scaring me like that?"

"You first!"

George groaned in frustration, then took a breath through his nose again. "I was up all night, as always, so I went to go get a midnight snack, _as always_." He held up a container of ice cream in his hand, then gestured below at a broken bowl on the floor, it's shattered pieces of glass littering the ground. around his feet, which were glued to where they stood. Nearby, they saw a spoon among the cracked shards.

"Wait a damn minute," Nick muttered, he and Clay beginning to slowly piece together everything in front of them as realization struck. Clay began to laugh as he did, shaking his head and grabbing from nearby a broom to sweep up the glass around George.

"Thanks," George muttered as the broom grazed his feet.

"You were the source of all the noise! And the missing ice cream!" Nick gasped. "And the missing spoons, too, aren't you?"

"Um, guilty?" George shrugged, confused.

Nick took agape in shock as Clay continued to cackle joyously, sweeping all of the glass into a pan.

"What, did you think I was a ghost?" George laughed too, picking the spoon up off of the floor and then opening the trash bin for Clay as he dumped the contents of the pan into it. He looked back at Nick, who was turning red, as he failed to answer.

Clay was wheezing now. "He did! He woke me up and forced me out of bed so I could go ghost hunt with him around the house like a couple of scared children."

"Sapnap, come on," George laughed, high and loud. "Is that why you jumped and ran away when you saw me in the hall earlier?"

Nick blushed harder still. "That was-"

"Me? Yeah, same as the other night."

"Oh my god, Sapnap, that 'ghostly-white, human-ish, pale, scary-looking' figure was just-fucking- _George_?" Clay barely managed to get the words out through breathless laughs as he stumbled backwards into a chair, holding his stomach and pounding his fist on the table. He pointed at George teasingly, who looked shocked.

"Hey!" George gapsed, offended. "Ghostly-white and scary looking?"

"I don't revoke my statement!" Nick called back angrily as he stormed off to his bedroom, away from his laughing and taunting friends. "Fuck you all!"

-

"Wait a minute-" Nick said the next morning as he brushed past George in the living room. "Is that?" He sniffed the air. "Autumn pine-tree mist?"

George froze like a deer in headlights, making a face that could only be described as getting caught red-handed.

Nick's jaw dropped. " _You've_ been using my two-in-one!"

George chuckled and shrugged. "Guilty?"


	2. Gallons, Glitter and Glue (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which George decides to actually take Clay up on the Valentine offer.
> 
> (Teen-rated for language)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly angstier, and fluffier, but definitely much longer, than the last, and filled to the brim with dnf content.
> 
> Some songs that I wrote this to:  
> -"Angels" by The xx  
> -"Lua" by Bright Eyes  
> -"I Need My Girl" by The National  
> -"Heavy Like Sunday" by Leona Ness  
> -Glass Animals of course  
> -"Tomb" by Angelo De Augustine  
> -"I'll Be Around" by Yo La Tengo  
> -"Under Your Thumb" by The Vaccines  
> -and just plenty of cheesy T-Swift bops

"Will you be my valentine, George?" Dream asked.

George sat up, suddenly tuning in to Clay across the dining room table. He looked away from his plate of Nick's slightly questionable interpretation of "spicy" macaroni and cheese at his friend, who was smiling back broadly. He was lifting his eyebrows, as if requesting the awaiting answer.

"What?" he chuckled back, taking out a lingering earbud from his ear. 

"Will you be my valentine?" Dream repeated, less like a suggestion and with purpose in every word.

George blinked back in response, jaw falling open but the silence still lingering. He laughed again, even more nervously. "Your valentine?" he echoed.

Clay nodded, smiling simply and innocently back at George. He pressed his cheek into his propped-up hand and tilted his head, waiting. Looking pretty. George felt his heart pick up it's pace as he swallowed.

"Very funny, Dream." He rolled his eyes, finally gathering his composure.

"No, I'm serious!" Clay gasped, as if he was offended George wasn't taking it seriously. "Will you be my valentine?" he insisted.

"What does that even mean? What do you mean?"

What was this? Why was Dream being this way? He couldn't possibly be serious.

"I mean, be my valentine," Dream said obviously, like it was a simple enough concept to understand, and it should have been, had Dream not been as confusing to George as he was. His bright eyes gave no clues as to whether he was joking either, and only served to perplex the situation further.

George shrugged. "You're joking."

"I'm not!"

"Fine. I'm your...pff...your valentine this February fourteenth, and then what?" He shovelled a spoonful of the cheesy macaroni in his mouth, forgetting why that wasn't a good idea as soon as he tasted it.

"Then," Clay said, his shoulder's perking up. "You're just-my valentine-I don't know."

George rolled his eyes back again. "Whatever. You're dumb."

"So that's a no?"

George's heart jumped. "I didn't say that."

"So then it's a yes?" Clay gasped excitedly, clasping his hands together in delight. He could be such a child, and his sunshiney glow momentarily made George feel light-headed as he imagined that Clay really was this excited to be his valentine.

"Maybe?" he laughed. "I guess so?"

"Yes!" Clay cheered, fist-pumping the air. "Yes! Gogy is my valentine! I don't have to tell my mom we broke up!" He laughed as George shook his head, then gasped once again, retrieving his phone from his pocket. "I'm going to tell twitter!"

"Oh no, I'll _never_ live this down," George chuckled. "You're going to send all of the fangirls to their graves."

"That's what I'm counting on."

George felt the corners of his mouth spread across his face against his control, a wide, dumb grin breaking free from his face. He twirled his fork around the pasta on his plate, looking down shyly as he refused to acknowledge the genuine warmth this was sending through his chest. He couldn't deny it, though; he was happy too.

Across the table, he heard the familiar sound effect of a tweet being sent out, then the click of Clay's phone shutting off. A short, uncomfortable quietness followed. When he looked up to address it, he found Clay already looking back, which made him flush. He asked, "What?"

Clay glanced around his face, studying it. "You know...you're really cute, Gogy." His words were entirely genuine.

"Whatever." He was getting sick of rolling his eyes so much.

"Hey," Clay hummed gently, getting George to look at him once again, on command. He was smirking. "You're blushing."

George sat up, his chair scraping across the floor as he pushed it backwards. "Fuck off," he cursed, scooping his earbuds and phone up and making a break for the hallway in a hurry. He made sure to turn his reddening face away as soon as he could, knowing that Dream had been right. Still though, against his will, the corners of his mouth were pulled into a tight, smile-line defining grin.

As he left, he heard Sapnap enter the room. "Who wants desser-" he began, then stopped. "Hey, wait, George! Oh come on! The mac-n-cheese isn't that bad!"

Clay laughed, amused with himself. "No. It really is."

-

George found himself staring at the empty ceiling that night, his mind reeling uncontrollably and keeping him awake.

 _What did it mean that they were Valentines, now? Were they going to do something? Like go on a_ date _? Or give each other gifts? As Valentines usually did?_ _Or was this all just some dumb joke?_ He closed his eyes. The thought-the _fantasy_ -of them doing anything even remotely romantic, more romantic than Dream's instant joke-flirting at least, was giving him an even greater headache.

Clay was so stupid. He was always doing things like this. The flirting. The jokes that he was dating George. The forwardness. His attitude. And, god, just- _the jokes_. All the jokes. He loved to see George get flustered as he laughed and teased, his voice always light-hearted, airy, and ingenuine. He didn't care about how it stirred rumours on the internet about them liking each other, although George certainly did. It was Dream's favourite game nonetheless. The jokes.

But there was something about the way he had asked George to be his valentine. He knew Dream. He knew his voice. He knew his tells. And because of that, something about that Valentines invitation was causing him to lose sleep, staring blankly at the ceiling, still and wondering. It echoed in his mind, paralyzing him and rendering him internally lost as it repeated persistently, again and again.

It hadn't really _sounded_ like a joke, had it?

They really were valentines.

But still, what did that _mean?_

-

Something nice about sharing an apartment, George found, was that he could now, instead of joining in a discord chat with Dream, join his friends livestreams in person.

They had begun to develop a kind of habit out of it, too. When Dream was streaming, George would often enter his room unannounced and find a place to perch as he watched Dream play or chat. Sometimes his bed. Sometimes a chair slid right up next to him. Dream had even begun leaving a second one at his desk for precisely that reason, and having his friend there in person was nice in all sorts of ways.

Sometimes, when Dream would be focussed on the game, George would lean over and make sure to read all of the dono's for him. And the day following Sapnap's disaster mac n' cheese, as well as the valentine's proposal, Dream was doing a slow-run and a QnA, and George was doing just this.

"Dream you missed my last couple donos, but can you wish my friend Ethan a happy birthday?" George read out over his friend's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry!" Clay said, entirely genuinely, then heartilly wished, "Happy birthday Ethan!"

George smiled. Clay had meant both things, and it was nice to see up close in person how much he loved his fans. He truly did appreciate all of them. It made George's insides feel warm. He turned back to the monitor, another sound notifying him of a new donation.

"Is your cat alright?" asked the next.

"Oh, she'll be okay! Thanks for the concern. I think I'll just go take her in to the vet in a couple days, just to be sure though," Clay answered, shooting a look back at Patches on the bed, sleeping in a comfortable little ball. George had been the first to notice that she wasn't eating much, and was whining a lot, and had seen a tweet from Dream about it recently that must have prompted the question. But before he could begin to think about how that related to previous felines of his, he heard another donation notification ring.

"What colour are yours and George's eyes?" it asked. George turned to Dream as he finished reading it.

"Well, I could ask Gogy over here to tell me what he thinks, but since he's colour blind, he'll probably say like-pink or something," Dream chuckled, flashing a grin at George, who's shoulders bounced as he laughed and shoved his friend in the shoulder. "Shut up," he giggled.

"No, but really, look at me," Clay commanded, and George did. There he found two bright eyes staring back. He felt his heart jump.

"Well, um-" he muttered, bravely gazing straight back into the interlocking stare, and studied the striking iris there. He found a swimming sea of blue and green with small hazel streaks, tucked between steady eyebrows and freckled cheeks, growing rosier in hue by the second. George swallowed, feeling Clay's penetrating gaze to be more intimidating than streaming in front of tens of thousands of viewers. Finally, his mouth managed to make out the word, "G-green."

"Green?" His laugh was honey.

"Yup. Your eyes...they're green." He turned away, feeling a sense of relief strike him as he withdrew the breath he had been holding so tightly. But it wouldn't last.

"Hey," Clay hummed in a quiet voice, grabbing George by the chin and swiftly turning his head to face him again, controlling and yet gentle in it's touch as his fingers grazed his jaw. George felt his cheeks begin to burn as he found himself return to Dream's intoxicating eyes. "Wait a minute," he said. "I haven't found out what yours is yet."

George felt Clay purposefully run a hand down his sharp jawline, his eyes flashing down to look at his parted lips unashamedly. His eyes lingered there, clearly not interested in discovering George's eye color.

"You're an idiot," George scoffed, yanking his face away from Dream's touch. "You know they're brown."

His friend laughed. It was true. "Yeah. They're very dark, and cat-like." George shot him a look, unsure whether that was a compliment, then felt his heart begin skipping a rope when he added in that low, comfortable tone, "And very _pretty_."

It took him a long moment to register, and then respond. "Oh stop," he laughed, patting a hoodie-covered palm to his burning face. For a second or two, he could still feel Clay's warm gaze on him like a brand, but then another donation sound effect sounded loudly, and it turned back to the screen in front of them.

"Hey Dream and George!" Clay read it out quick, clearing his throat loudly. "I love your guys's videos, they always make me so happy when I'm down-awww, thank you!-" he beamed at the words he was reading as if he hadn't heard something similar countless times before. As if this were the first. As if this fan in particular being happy meant everything to him. He kept reading. "-My question is, what (or who ;)) are you planning on doing for Valentines?"

George's eyes widened as he watched Dream's smile turn even bigger, and his eyes more full of mischief as he glanced quickly at the other. "Oh, well..." he grinned. "Actually, George is my valentine."

It looked like a challenge. Or a joke. Or maybe even a boast. Either way, his eyes filled with that familiar fire, and they were bearing right into him again.

"Yeah, actually. He's not being dumb and kidding, for once," George smiled back, rolling his eyes. He felt Dream kick his leg with his own, a gentle, playful nudge. "I am in fact his valentine."

He watched with guilty pleasure as the chat erupted, most referring to ships and boyfriends and what not, and let a laugh tickle his throat. As the comments soared by, he caught, between the spam of emotes and some streams of subscriptions, several highlighted questions. "What does that mean?" he caught, and read aloud.

"He's just...my valentine. You know. You know how it works," answered Clay with a little shrug. "Means I don't have to tell my mom we broke up."

George shook his head, laughing like a idiot again. Now he felt the warmth in his cheeks radiating in his chest as well, his whole head becoming airy and light, and his stomach fluttering with butterflies. He avoided Dream's returning stare, despite how he felt it hot on his face, sure he'd melt if he didn't, and continued to scan the chat.

Another donation rolled in. George read it. "What are you guys going to do on valentines?" Eagerly, George looked at his friend, wanting to know the answer as well.

"Oh, you know, do normal couple things. Watch a romantic movie together. Go eat at a fancy restaurant. Fuck each others brains out until Sapnap decides to move back to Texas, you know-"

"Dream!" he squealed, shoving him in the arm. "I'm done," he laughed, rising from his chair and turning to go in a hurry. His nerves were becoming too much to bear and every second he spent next to Dream pretending to be romantic was making him more of a flustered, mortified mess. "Goodnight."

"Hey, wait-" George felt a hand grab his just as he passed, tugging him back a little. He turned to look at Dream, who looked like a sad puppy, but was still wearing that happy grin. "Goodnight, valentine..." he said in a low, sultry voice, and stroked his thumb over George's hand, pulling it up to plant a small kiss there. 

George gasped, then tugged his hand away hard, leaving in much more of a hurry after that. "Goodnight!"

-

The fourteenth was in about two days. That was enough time for George to find-or even make-Clay a nice enough gift.

-

_Georgenotfound: Hey, what do you want for Valentines Day, valentine?_

_Dreamwastaken: A mountain of chocolates, and the biggest teddy bear they sell at the store, of course. <3_

_Georgenotfound: Oh fuck off._

_Dreamwastaken: Did I mention a big, big bouquet of flowers?_

-

"Hey, what's that stuff for?" Nick called from the couch the next day when George entered with a grocery store bag in each hand.

"None of your business!" he grinned as he headed to his room and shut the door hard.

It was time to get crafting.

-

Okay, so maybe he wasn't exactly the 'crafting' type.

He'd bought a lot of things he hadn't really needed, because he hadn't been exactly sure what he needed, but one thing was for sure; Trying to use all of it on his card from Dream had been a bad idea.

He'd spilled the glitter all over the floor before he could even manage to get any on the paper, and had failed to scoop even half back into the tube, and was sure he'd have the small, glittery specs all over himself for weeks, at least. He'd somehow forgotten how to tie a nice bow when it came to the ribbon, and managed to stick two of his fingers together better than he did sticking it onto the paper. He had thought, at the time, that writing in it with three different colours would look nice and neat, but he was very wrong, and the ink from the cheap markers bled onto his hands, making them multicoloured, along with being covered in both glitter and glue now.

God, he felt like a small child doing arts and crafts. And failing. Miserably. And he felt _ridiculous_.

But he looked back down at his card, and he scanned across his writing. His heart, somehow, seemed to both ache and glow at the same time as he skimmed over the words that he meant so dearly, and he stared fondly at the work that had taken him all evening to create, blunders and all. He really had tried so hard on it, and he was sure it showed. Despite it's flaws, and the childish nature of it, he cared about it now. He hadn't intended every smudge and glue-stain and spec of stray glitter, but he _had_ intended it for Dream, and he spent a while to make it. So even if it wasn't wonderful, he cared. And that was what mattered. The thought, or something.

And, hey, maybe Clay would think it was, I don't know, charming.

George pushed aside the haunting fear that his friend would just laugh at it and tease him relentlessly for the rest of his life about it, and even more so when he would open it and read the words inside, and set the card on his nightstand with the heart-shaped box and the teddy bear. He collapsed in his bed, closing his eyes and letter his mind wander into a state of wonder.

_Should chocolates be refrigerated? When should he give Clay the gifts? In the morning at breakfast? At dinner? Should they have something nice for dinner? Dream was kidding about wanting all those things as a gift, right? Would the chocolates melt? What did Clay get him? Should he have bought flowers, too? Would Sapnap make fun of him? Should they do something fun tomorrow? Watch dumb romantic movies, maybe? Or go out? Should he be putting the chocolates in the fridge right now?!_

George was fast asleep before he could think any more about melting chocolates or any lingering fears about the next day.

-

George woke early the next day to make breakfast.

It wasn't anything special. Just eggs and bacon, and yet, when Sapnap entered the kitchen that morning, he yawned, "Wow, what's that amazing smell?"

George startled, having been in his own world that whole morning so far, but then smiled at the subtle compliment. "Just eggs and bacon, Sapnap. You want some?" he asked, flipping the spitting bacon quickly before returning to the eggs.

"Yes _please_ ," Nick answered in return, stretching in the pale light streaming through the windows as he took in the smell wafting through the air with deep breaths. "Why are you up so early?"

"It's not early."

"It's early for _us_."

"Fair," George shrugged as he began to serve the eggs onto three different plates.

"So what's the special occasion that you are making something other than coffee or poptarts?" Nick asked, mouth watering as he stared over George's shoulder at the plates of food he was assembling in front of him.

George leaned over and turned off the stove. "What, you don't know? Look at the date. It's February fourteenth."

Nick's eyebrows raised in surprise, before he laughed and cooed, "Aww, honey, you shouldn't have!" He reached to try wrap George in a hug from behind, but his friend managed to just maneuver out of the way in time, though he was laughing too.

"Shut up," he said, still giggling. "It's not for you, it's for-" He stopped himself before he could accidentally admit exactly who George had been thinking about non-stop for the past couple days, and really for a long time before that, but to his horror, the taller man looking down at him seemed to pick up on it.

"Wait-" he smirked. "Is it for _Dream?_ 'Cause you two are like-"valentines" or whatever?" He laughed teasingly, making George blush, but then his expression dimmed before he could reply. The smirk went away, and the laughter died. "Oh."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, sorry George."

"What is it?" George asked, suddenly panicked.

"Well I'm afraid if Dream does get this _lovely_ breakfast you have so _kindly_ made for us-for _him_ -then it's going to be cold," he broke the news to him, awkwardly and with genuine sympathy.

George tried to bare an aloof expression, one that wouldn't show how this was making him sad, but he knew he wasn't pulling it off very well. "Why not?" he asked, eyebrows creasing.

"He's gone to the vet this morning. Won't be back for a bit," answered Nick, shrugging and apologizing with his face. He then reached an arm behind him friend slowly, and (not so subtly) took his plate of food, heading for the dining table.

"Oh," George said, shoulders dropping. "...Well okay, that's fine. It's just breakfast."

That was true. It was only breakfast. His real surprise would be the letter. The confessional. The wild assembly of glitter and glue and green crayola markers. Just thinking about giving it to Dream made George's heart do excited little backflips.

And at the same time, made him feel like throwing up his bacon and eggs.

-

When Dream got home, George was not so subtly waiting on the couch for him.

"Oh, hey!" Dream said, smiling at his friend. Dream kicked the door closed behind him, his hands occupied by a small kennel containing Patches. "Sapnap told me you made eggs and bacon," he said gratefully as he set the carrier down and opened its door to let the feline out. She hopped out of there happily, immediately jumping up on George's lap and curling up into a ball there. "Thanks."

George didn't hide the way he blushed. "Oh, yeah," he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. As if it were some secret Dream had discovered. And not just _breakfast_.

Dream spotted his plate on the table and eagerly scooped it up, taking it to the microwave to heat it. He barely remembered to take the fork off of it beforehand, but George would have warned him anyway had he forgotten. "What's the special occasion?"

"Why do you both ask that?" George stroked his fingers across Patches lightly from head to tail, then head to tail again, and avoided meeting Dream's soft gaze. The action was much more intimidating these days.

"You don't really...cook," Dream answered with a short chuckle. "But hey, I appreciate that you're starting to. I've had enough of Nick's dinners."

"Agreed." George laughed unashamedly. Patches purred beneath him. He half expected their roomate to call a retort from his room, but it didn't come.

The microwave beeped for only a second before Clay was swinging the door open violently and retrieving the plate from inside. He blew on the food only once before grabbing a piece of bacon and taking a large, blind bite, which he immediately jumped from. Luckily, he managed to not drop his plate, but soon began flicking his free hand in the air in front of his face in a rapid, fanning motion, indicating that the food was too hot.

George snickered at his friend's struggle. "Oh my god, Clay, just wait till your food cools, for heaven's sake."

Clay wasn't able to reply, too busy waving his hands in front of him as he panted, taking dramatic, open-mouthed bites as he tossed the burning bacon around on his tongue to. George shook his head, continuing to pet the pretty cat on his lap as he waited. Then when Clay had finally swallowed down the bite, he snatched his fork and perched down on the couch next to George and Patches.

"Don't make a mess in here," George warned.

"Okay, mom."

He rolled his eyes. "So how's Patches?"

"Oh, luckily, turns out she's fine. Just a small cavity. I booked a second appointment for next Monday, so she'll be alright," Clay explained, blowing much more generously on his bite of eggs before taking a big bite. Immediately, he turned into a panting mess again.

George ignored that. "That's good! Glad there's nothing wrong with her," hummed George as he continued to run his hand down her spine softly. He scratched her ear lightly, and her ears twitched. "The fans will be relieved."

Clay swallowed down his hot bite of food and nodded, murmuring in agreement. "Oh!" he perked up, grabbing his phone out of his hoodie pocket. "Reminds me, I should write a tweet." George soon heard the quick whir of clicking on Clay's phone, before it stopped all at once.

"Hey, wait a minute," said Clay, looking at George, then pointing his phone up at him. Like he was taking a picture. "Smile."

"No!" he protested. "Don't. I look so bad."

"What?" Clay scoffed in genuine disbelief, looking up from his phone. "You're literally _so_ pretty, it's unfair."

"Oh, shut up."

Dream didn't need to know George had spent a long time in the shower and in front of the mirror this morning, making sure he looked pretty. He didn't need to know George was actually quite happy to be photographed as he rolled his eyes and smiled for the photo, a blush creeping up onto his face from being complimented by Clay.

As Clay sent out the tweet, the new photo attached, then returned to eating his now reasonably warm food, a quietness grew. Gently, the resurfacing thought of Dream's gift itched the back of George's mind, irking him as the comfortable silence settled between them. Only Patches purring and Clay's chewing could be heard.

 _Should George say something? Bring up the date?_ Clay was acting as if it was any other day. _He couldn't have forgotten, could he?_

"Aw, what a cute little kitten," Clay finally said, cooing at his phone as he looked at the picture of him and Patches together. He then looked at George, eager to catch his reaction as he smirked and said, "Oh yeah, Patches is there too."

His laugh was loud and booming as George shoved him.

He chuckled finished his plate, then rose to his feet, making George feel panicked. The moment had already passed. If he was going to say anything, now was the time to. He watched Clay rinse off his dish and set in the sink with focussed eyes, swallowing hard as the words formed nervously in his throat. God, why was he being so stupid? _This was all for fun, just ask!_

"Hey, Dream," he said, returning his stare to Patches as Clay turned to look at him with those bright, green eyes. "Do you wanna like, I don't know, do something today? Like-I don't know, watch dumb romance movies, or go out, or something?"

"Oh, sorry," Clay replied, shaking his head, and already George's heart dropped. "I'm busy. Streaming in an hour with Karl and Bad and Quackity. Gotta go set up. Maybe tonight we can catch up on WandaVision, or something, though. Sapnap watched ahead again, like a dick, but he insists on watching it with us." He shot George another look.

"Oh yeah," he chuckled nervously in response, swallowing down whatever vile emotion was rising in his throat as he tried to seem casual. "Sounds good."

After a moment, he added, "You've been streaming a lot lately. You sure you want to?"

"I owe Karl this one. Sorry," he said, honestly, before heading into the hall.

"Alright. Tonight, then," George said with a small voice, watching him leave.

Tonight, then.

-

George had watched the whole four-hour long stream from his room, long drawn out donation reads and all, then waited a good half hour afterward to text Dream.

_Georgenotfound: Hey, how was the stream?_

_Dreamwastaken: Good. Big Q is a dumbass. Lol._

_Georgenotfound: You can say that again. What did you play again?_

It's not like he was _lying_ about not knowing. It was just meant to seem that way.

_Dreamnotfound: Jackbox. Not even any of the good games tho._

_Georgenotfound: Bummer._

He didn't wanna push it. Didn't want to show that it mattered to him. 

_Georgenotfound: What's for dinner?_

_Dreamwastaken: It's only like half past four._

_Georgenoutfound: And? I'm hungry._

_Dreamwastaken: Did you skip lunch Gogy??_

_Georgenotfound: What's for dinner?_

_Dreamwastaken: Feel like cooking again?_

_Georgenotfound: Do you?_

_Dreamwastaken: Takeout it is._

George smiled at how they both silently left Sapnap out of the equation.

_Georgenotfound: Ok. Where you wanna go?_

_Dreamwastaken: You pick. <3_

George rolled his eyes at himself for feeling warm at that text.

_Georgenotfound: "Brand", of course. Even though they banned me on TikTok and everything._

_Dreamwastaken: Ok. Lol. I'll be back in half an hour. Text me your order._

A sudden urge stabbed at George's heart. He wanted to do more for Dream. Be with him. Be there for him. Even in tiny, insignificant ways.

_Georgenotfound: I could go get it._

_Dreamwastaken: No, you can't._

Oh yeah. He couldn't drive in America yet.

He had to do something, though. An idea popped into his head, and he spit out a text before he could feel nervous about asking it.

_Georgenotfound: Can I come?_

-

George had not bothered to put on proper clothes, considering they were simply going through the drive through and he hadn't wanted to take a long time leaving Clay hanging, but it was still awkward when they were getting handed their food to be dressed in a hoodie and decorated pajama bottoms. George graciously took the bags from Dream as he handed them off, using them to cover his legs, even as the food inside burned hot through the paper and boiled his skin beneath.

It had been so quiet the whole time as they drove up to the restaurant, and even more so as they drove away, but Clay didn't seem to mind. He looked comfortable as he drove, tapping the steering wheel and fidgeting, and looking around at the cars in front of them. George, however, was a nervous mess. His eyes darted back and forth between the food, the road, and his friend, dimly lit in the driver's seat with only the light of the nearby vehicles to brighten up his face.

"Hey," Clay said suddenly, making George's shoulders tense. "You keep staring."

"Oh," George breathed out, eyes widening in embarrassment. He didn't think Dream had noticed. "Sorry."

"What's up?" He shot a glance at George, eyes bright despite the darkness of the night.

"Maybe I'm just entranced by your charming good looks?" he joked, although he knew it wasn't entirely one deep down. Still though, it made Clay laugh in surprise, as if startled by George doing the fake-flirting for a change.

"Fair enough," Dream hummed.

More silence.

"It's so weird how your guys's cars and roads are backwards. It feels like I'm living in a parallel universe or something," George said, stirring a new conversation.

"Okay, whatever, Gogy," Dream chuckled, eyes rolling back. "You guys are the weird ones."

His smile was involuntary, but not shy as he beamed wide. "Not even. And what is with your measurement system? Now I have to learn all this 'five tom-ay-toes' rubbish, and what the fuck even is a yard? Everything is so odd here."

"You're full of it," muttered Dream through a throaty laugh. "You like it here. You know you do."

George felt his smile soften as he looked away to his right window, leaning against it lazily. "I do."

Dream's eyes seemed to soften too as his eyes landed on the small brunette. A short exhale left his nose, and he replied, "Well, I'm happy to have you here in America with me. Finally."

 _"Finally,"_ George echoed. He dared to look back at Clay, and for a moment, they shared a connected gaze, full of genuine love and happiness, until Clay had to turn back to the road and change lanes. George didn't care that his heart was racing, now, and he didn't care if the other knew he was still looking. It felt safe to. So he stared. Stared at the face he'd begged for years to see. The one he'd wondered about for so long, and tried to make up in his mind countless times. Every feature was so beautiful. So interesting. So not what he was expecting, and yet everything he had hoped for. So different than anything he could have pictured, and yet, so _Clay_. It was still surreal seeing it.

He had burned the image into his brain once he first met him. Stared for longer than was appropriate. Kept looking back and puzzling at that face being _him_. Kept startling at seeing Clay talk, and seeing the voice he'd known for so many years come out of a real human being. Now he could pair a beaming face to those obnoxious laughs and wheezes that he adored, and a cocky smirk to the insistent flirter he despised, and that big, happy dork that was Dream. He loved him. He really did.

He considered bringing up some of the things in his letter. Or mentioning the letter at all. _Did Clay get him anything? Did he think about it constantly leading up to today, like George had?_

"Hey George."

"Hm?"

"It's been, like, a minute. You can stop staring now."

"Shut up." A blush tainted his pale skin again, and he grabbed a soda from the cardboard holder to sip in distraction. "Oh my god," he said, scoffing. "and another thing: your portion sizes are ginormous! I ordered a medium, not a liter!"

Clay's laugh was music. "Don't you mean four gallons?"

-

George had guiltily pictured an evening of him and Clay cuddled up on the couch, making fun of the Titanic or The Notebook, not watching Mandalorian with Sapnap during dinner. But hey, that was alright with him, too.

"I can't believe you're behind on this show this late, but you insist on watching ahead on WandaVision. Honestly," Clay scoffed, taking a bite of his chip. For a moment, he turned and caught George staring again, but didn't say anything this time.

"Well I was busy last month, okay?"

"That was two months ago," George corrected condescendingly, sipping his drink with poise. Sapnap shot him a glare, not in the mood for one of his interesting comebacks, then returned his attention to the screen.

"Hey George," Dream perked up, smiling like a child when George looked over. "Longest fry contest!" he announced. He held up a skinny, drooping fry to his friend, who stared, looking confused.

"Longest-what?"

"Longest fry contest! C'mon! Bet you can't beat mine," he boasted, dangling the chip now like it was important leverage in this conversation, and a badge of honor to be gloated over.George realized what he meant, and laughed.

"Alright, well, I've already eaten most of them," he said back. "So I don't know if I'll be able to find a very good one..."

Clay shook his head. "Sure, sure, sure," he smirked jokingly. "Excuses, excuses."

George huffed, rolling his eyes, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him, spread in a goofy grin. Carefully, he picked out one of his chips, the longest one, and held it up. Clay took it from his hand, the place where their fingers met lingering for just a moment, then held it to his. To nobody's surprise, his was longer by a lot.

"I win!" he cheered, pumping the air. "Mine's longer."

"That's what he said..." muttered Sapnap absentmindedly, still watching the show. They had stopped watching with him a while ago.

"Whatever," giggled George, blushing at Sapnap's comment and snatching his fry back. He then looked up at Clay, who was holding out his fry tauntingly, still gloating about his win. George smirked, then snatched his fry too, and in one foul swoop, popped it into his mouth.

Clay gasped, his mouth immediately flying open. "George!"

George threw his head back as he laughed at Clay's face, which lingered in it's heartbroken expression for several seconds. He blocked the light punch that came his way, still laughing. "Guess I have the longest one now..." he mumbled.

"No! You're a cheater, George! Doesn't count!" protested the other, crossing his arms. He tried to look upset, but his mouth curled at the edges, too. "I cannot believe you did that. That could have broken world records, or something."

"Sure, sure, sure," George repeated. "You're not really upset."

"No, I am. I'm going to bed," Dream said, rising from his chair and packing up his food into the bag. He headed for the fridge, yanking it open and putting the bag inside. Immediately, George's laughed faded, and he frowned. Clay really was going to bed. "G'night," he said, not to anyone or anything in particular.

"You're really going to bed?" George asked nervously, voice trembling only once.

"Nah, probably gonna scroll through tiktok for too long, watch some Twitch, code for that new mod I was talking about making...but then yeah, bed," he answered with a nonchalant shrug and punctuated it with a sip of his soda.

George tidied up his rubbish quickly, scooting his chair to the wall with the back of his legs as he stood, frantically. "Oh, well I, uh-" he stammered, trying to come up with something on the fly. "-had some ideas for that mod. Mind if I join you?"

Clay let his eyes follow George in silence for a moment as he rushed to join him, staring boldly. He looked like he was thinking about something. Suspecting something. Wondering. Then, his features relaxed. "Nah. Come on," he invited, motioning for George to follow him down the hall to his room. George didn't hide his happiness as he did.

"Goodnight, lovebirds," Sapnap called after them, his eyes turning from lazily lingering on the TV screen that illuminated the room to look back at George and toss him a cocky smirk. George blushed and rolled his eyes.

-

"Alright, no offense," laughed Dream. "But all of these ideas make no sense, George."

It was true. Although George had been alright at conjuring the excuse that he had some ideas for Dream in order to join him again in his room, the "ideas" themself were very much lacking. But Dream didn't seem to mind, and he looked to be enjoying the others presence.

"It's okay. I don't like them very much either," he said with a short lift of his shoulders. "I'm a little confused as to how this is going to work anyway."

"I could tell," said Clay with a tumble in his voice. "But thanks for sharing them anyway."

"No problem," he said. Soon, another comfortable silence emerged between them, and the air filled with only the sound of Dream's fingers flying away at his keyboard. Momentarily, the thought of the letter urged him to do something. Before George knew what he was doing, his tight posture slumped, and his body leaned over onto Dream's, his head resting on the taller man's hunched shoulder.

Clay only stopped for a moment, then continued, without even looking at him. George blushed. It felt nice. He was usually very physical with Dream, very much contrary to Sapnap, but it had felt right, and it made his insides warm.

"I think you messed up that line up there," George mumbled with a weak point at the top of his screen. Dream stopped to stare at the code he was gesturing to, then nodded, placing his cursor on it and fixing the issue. "Thanks," he said.

Before silence could fall again, George began a new conversation. "So is this all you wanted to do for Valentines day?"

"What do you mean?"

"Patches. Streaming. Takeout. TV. Then coding? Seems like a pretty normal day," he said sleepily, comfortable resting on Dream's arm.

Clay was still in the zone, fingers still moving rapidly against the keys. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be? It's not like I'm dating anyone. Who would I have to impress?"

"Well, aren't I your valentine?"

He hadn't meant to bring it up so early. So blatantly. So genuinely. But now it was out there.

To his surprise, a laugh fell from Dream's lips. "Oh yeah! I had completely forgotten about that thing," he said lightly.

George's heart stopped. 

_What?_

He straightened, looking at Clay intensely to see if he was kidding. But he wasn't. Clay turned to face him too, expression changing when he met George's serious gaze. Silence.

"Wait wh-you're kidding, right?" Clay chuckled. Nervously.

George didn't answer. In his mind and his heart, everything began to crumble, and he was too struck dumb to focus on changing his facial expression to feign nonchalance. To do anything but to unintentionally reveal to Dream with the heartfelt hurt in his eyes that he was being honest. That to him, it _wasn't_ a joke.

"George-"

He felt his breathing grow quicker. His heartbeat grow faster. And his world spinning slowly.

_"Are you kidding?"_

"I-" George's tongue caught in his throat. "I thought-you know, with all the tweeting, and after that conversation, you just seemed like you-"

_-meant it._

Clay seemed to be processing this misunderstanding just as hard. His eyes were swimming, but with what emotion George couldn't tell, and it was only making his heart race further. Slowly, he began to slip off of the bed. "George, I was-well-" he said, struggling. "It was a joke. You knew that. I mean, you _knew_ that. I wouldn't even know how t-" His words cut short. They didn't come back.

"But what about all those..." George's voice betrayed him too, sounding just as weak and hopeless as he felt as he began to realize more and more by the second that all of it was just a joke.

A _joke_.

It was all a joke.

"George..." Dream looked as if he was his father trying to tell him that he ran over the dog. "I'm starting to think you're taking this 'DreamNotFound' thing seriously." His words developed into that familiar laugh, which in the moment, sounded like taunting to George. It made his eyes sting. He lifted off of the bed, and began backing toward the door.

Searching for a way to ease the tension in the room, Dream smiled, though it lacked all the usual honest warmth. The warmth George had felt in the car. At dinner. When Dream had first asked him to _be_ his valentine _in the first place_ -

He spoke, trying to pull George back into the room as he stepped shakily toward the door, "Oh come on. Don't go falling for me now!" He offered another awkward chuckle. He was joking. 

Another _joke_.

"Uh-hey-" George squeaked, finally finding his voice. His eyes were burning now. "I think I should hit the hay, you know? Get my sleep schedule right again. Goodnight." He turned to leave, swinging the door open violently and rushing out.

"Oh, okay," Clay replied, and it sounded sad. "Goodnight, Gogy!"

He was gone before Dream could see the tear finally fall from his eye.

-

That night, alone in his bed, George ate the chocolates. All of them. Just for good measure. Or maybe he really hadn't meant to. He didn't know. Then he threw away the box.

" _George_ -"

How could he have been so stupid? Of course they weren't _actual_ valentines. It was all nothing but a stupid joke. He had been so stupid to imagine that it was anything different. Why would it have been any different? Clay always joked like this. Always flirted. And it had always meant nothing. Nothing at all. It had always been a joke. Why in the world had George made it out to be anything more this time? God, this was his fault. He shouldn't have been so upset about it.

So why was he still? Everywhere it hurt, and he had no idea why. He felt his whole chest caving in. Memories of Clay smiling at him in the dark car and telling him how happy he was to have him with him overlapped with those damn lingering words he had just said to George his bedroom, muddling into a confusing haze of yearning that left him paralyzed. George's brain filled with images of Clay's eyes from up close, the curve of his mouth when he laughed, and how his voice sounded when he was tired. But over top of it all, those words blared like sirens, making his heart ache.

_"I'm starting to think you're taking this 'DreamNotFound' thing seriously."_

He hadn't meant to hurt George. He didn't even have any clue how George was feeling. George didn't have any clue how he was feeling, either. He just knew it wasn't good, and it definitely wasn't coming from a place of friendship.

And he knew that those feelings had been there for a long time. And they weren't going away soon.

But he knew that he'd have it together by tomorrow morning, and that by the time the sun rose again and he had slept off the stinging threat of tears and heartache and humiliation, he could go back to pretending everything was fine. And it would be. Fine.

Probably.

 _"Oh yeah! I had completely forgotten about that thing."_ His laugh that was normally honey in George's ears had turned to poison. He had sounded like a bully. Mocking him. Teasing him. Taunting him. _Laughing at him._

George's hand felt around on the bed until it found the folded piece of paper he had tossed to the side. His card. He brought it to his face, then opened it carefully, eyes glazing as they swept over the scribble of words. Over the lovey confessional. Over the stupid, stupid vulnerable, overly-honest nothingness he had rushed out onto paper before he even knew that he was admitting everything he wouldn't even admit to himself to Dream. His heart began to spill again, and his eyes burned from holding back tears again. The air left his lungs. Why would he write all that?

His eyes caught on a particular phrase, and he felt a sharp jab of embarrassment strike him. _Why_ would he write _any_ of that?

It didn't matter. Clay would never read it.

His hands pinched the paper tight and tore before he could think twice about it. He closed his eyes as he ripped it again, and then again just for good measure. Then his fists balled up, crumpling the pieces.

_"Don't go falling for me, now!"_

He let the breath he had been holding go, and let the piece fall from his hands off of the bed, finally, finally relaxing.

It would be fine. It would all be fine.

-

For whatever reason, the first thing Clay thought about when he awoke the next morning was George.

Something didn't sit right with him. Something was wrong. Something about George seemed very off. He hadn't managed to write a single line of code after the boy had left, mind too preoccupied worried about him to think about matters like Minecraft mods.

He had considered going to his room to check up on him multiple times. He had left the room, stood in the hall and stared in the direction of George's bedroom door for several minutes at a time. But he backed away each time. He was probably fine. Right?

But what if he wasn't?

His mind forced him to replay the moment he had looked over at him. There, in those dark eyes, he had only seen hurt. And shock. And every word that left his mouth was real. He reran the moment George left, clearly hurt and not trying to hide it with a weak lie, over and over until he couldn't remember what had really happened.

_Had George really thought they were valentines? What did that mean?_

Guilt and worry stabbed at him like a knife. Poisoned him like a toxin, slowly crawling up his back. There was no way that could be true. There was no way George could have looked forward to the holiday, wondering what kind of surprise Clay had waiting for him. There was no way he could have possibly looked at those tweets he had written about them being valentines and smiled, blushing at how it was real. There was no way he was hurt right now by Clay just.. _.forgetting._

It was 8:47. He had officially laid in bed thinking about George for over half an hour. He lazily lifted himself out of bed with a groan, and headed for the door.

He barely made it to the end of the hall before his eyes caught on the sight of George, sitting at the dining room table with a coffee mug and his phone, looking at it intensely. He watched for a moment, every emotion he knew the name of coursing through him in a matter of seconds, before those pretty brown eyes turned to look up at him.

He was silent too, for a moment, before he smiled, and the frozen fear in Dream melted away. "Morning," he said.

"Good morning," he smiled back, joining him at the table. Relief washed over him.

George was fine.

Just fine.

 _Was_ he _fine, though?_

-

"Gah!" Sapnap screamed from the bathroom the following day as George passed by. "Why is there so much glitter everywhere? Where is it fucking coming from?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this verrryyyy late Valentines fic!!! It was absolutely not beta read, so please excuse it!


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